


Quid Pro Quo

by hi_ho_silver



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: (Violence is Pretty Mild), Blood and Injury, Closeted Richie Tozier, Deals, Explicit Language, Fear, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay Richie Tozier, Homophobic Language, Hurt Eddie Kaspbrak, Hurt Richie Tozier, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Kidnapping, Light Angst, Losers Club (IT) Friendship, M/M, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, Psychological Torture, Rated T for Trashmouth, Richie Tozier Gets Beat Up, Richie Tozier Gets Taken Instead of Beverly Marsh, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier is Bad at Feelings, Secrets, Sonia Kaspbrak's A+ Parenting, Threats
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:28:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24385087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hi_ho_silver/pseuds/hi_ho_silver
Summary: “Don’t touch him, Richie,” Pennywise hissed, crawling forwards. “You know you can’t touch the other boys.”Richie ignored the clown’s comment as he checked over Eddie’s abdomen. He was bleeding. A lot.“You’ll be okay!” Richie promised frantically. “You’re okay, Eds! Okay? Look at me!” Richie grabbed his best friend’s head, and forced him to look Richie in the eyes. Eddie was crying. And hyperventilating. He needed his inhaler, and Bev still hadn’t found it.“Oh, Richie,” Pennywise cackled. “It really is obvious!”“Can you walk?” Richie asked Eddie. Eddie nodded, wheezing, and Bill quickly helped to pull them up off the grass. Eddie wobbled as he leaned on Richie for support.“Tell them, Richie!” Pennywise teased, giggling. “Or I will!”That got Richie to look up. When the two locked eyes, the clown grinned maniacally. Richie’s eyes were filled with fear. Tasty, delicious fear.OrPennywise threatens to tell Richie’s secret, but Richie offers It something better. Something that It can’t refuse.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 47
Kudos: 183





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the Losers’ first fight at Neibolt, and soon after they all make up. Bev wasn’t kidnapped by Pennywise, however she did kill her dad. Anyways, this is my first fanfic on this site, so I hope you enjoy it! Don’t worry, the first chapter’s only short because it’s a prologue. Suggestions, comments, constructive criticism, etc. are always appreciated!

Fear was something that Richie Tozier dealt with on a daily basis. He felt fear every time he arrived home from hanging out with his friends, only to find his father waiting with a belt and an angry, drunken expression. Richie felt fear when his best friend, Eddie Kaspbrak, had a really bad asthma attack. Richie felt fear whenever he walked the halls of Derry Junior High School, where he got scarily sharp looks from the more popular kids, and disapproving looks from the teachers. Richie felt fear when he was caught alone by Bowers and his goons. Richie even felt a spike of fear every time he and Eddie got too close. The point was, Richie got scared. A lot. But nothing compared to the fear that he felt when he stared into the eyes of a cosmic killer clown...

... which was where Richie was now - at the park with his best friends, looking into the eyes of a demon.

The seven kids were all standing together; Richie, Bill, and Beverly in front, and Mike, Ben, Stan, and Eddie directly behind them. They all wore mixed expressions; some were fearful, others angry. Some were a mix of both.

In front of the group, stood an almost-seven-foot-tall, horrific-looking clown. It wore tattered, 1700’s-looking clothing, and a menacingly knifelike smile. It’s yellow eyes drifted in two different directions, and drool spilled from it’s mouth, making the Losers shudder. The hideous thing had red tufts of hair sticking up from the sides of it’s enormous head. It held a shiny red balloon in one of it’s gloved hands. Bells jingled as It limped closer to the group, making them all subconsciously step further away. The clown could smell their fear. It just needed more of it. An easy task when it came to the Losers - especially Richie. He was the easiest to scare. A couple of threats, and the boy would produce enough fear to feed the clown for days. It drooled at the thought.

“Stay the f-f-fuck aw-way from us!” Bill screamed at the monster. “S-s-stay the f-fuck _away!_ ”

“Oh, Billy...” the clown said sadly. “If only little Georgie had been as convincing as you are. Then maybe he wouldn’t be dead. Maybe he wouldn’t be floating with the other children..” It trailed off, relishing in the anger on the young boy’s face.

“Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh- _shut the fuck up!_ ” Bill gasped out.

Beverly glared at the monster. ”We’re stronger when we’re together!” she shouted fiercely. “We know that now! So _you_ should be the one who’s afraid!”

The clown clucked it’s tongue.

“Poor, poor Beverly,” It sneered. “You still haven’t learned. When will you understand that you shouldn’t be playing with boys? The only one who should play with you is-“

“Be quiet,” Beverly stuttered, face as pale as paper. Ben placed a soft hand on her arm, a small gesture of comfort, though he was shaking just as much as Bev.

Pennywise could smell their fear. It knew that it was getting to them.

“And you too, Fatboy! You’ll never get the girl,” It started to weep exaggeratedly. “Do you know why? Because you are incapable of being loved,” It suddenly spat, interrupting it’s own tears. “You’re just a poor, fat, ugly boy.” Tears welled up in Ben’s eyes as he removed his hand from Beverly’s arm. She instantly felt cold there.

Meanwhile, Stanley was glaring at the clown.

“Get out of here!” he yelled shakily. “We took you down at Neibolt! We can do it again!”

There were shouts of agreement that followed Stanley’s statement.

That was when It bitterly came to a realization: the kids weren’t scared enough.

Maybe it was time to up the fear factor.


	2. Keep It A Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They don’t know, do they, Richie?” Pennywise asked innocently. “They don’t know that you-“
> 
> “Stop,” Richie pleaded weakly. “Please, just stop.” The clown grinned.
> 
> “What is it? You don’t want Eddie to know? You don’t want him to know your dirty little secret?” Pennywise smirked.

The Losers stood in the center of Bassey Park, the clown not ten feet away.

“We’re not scared of you, Pennywise!” Bev shouted angrily. To be fair, she was scared. All of them were. But they refused to let the clown know that.

It growled.

“We’ll see about that, Bevvy,” Pennywise countered in her father’s cold voice. With a deafening roar, It started to bend and writhe in inhuman ways. Loud cracks and snaps sounded as the clown twisted and grew in size.

As much as they tried to stifle their growing dread, the Losers knew that they were no match for the monster before them; Pennywise could still sense their fear, no matter how minimal it was.

The clown was now towering over the group, probably around thirty feet tall. It had grown eight spider-like legs, and several gray, spiked tentacles. Baring hundreds of razor-sharp teeth, It laughed.

“How’s _ this  _ for scary?” It hissed.

“Not bad,” Richie managed to fearfully stutter out.

Before anyone else could say a thing, Pennywise came charging forwards, causing the children to run in separate directions. Somehow, Richie ended up side-by-side with Bill and Stan. Mike was running for his life alongside Beverly and Ben, and Eddie was left to run alone.

Pennywise chose to chase after “Wheezy,” as It liked to think of him. After all, he was the easiest to get ahold of. He had asthma, and could hardly breathe on a normal day, let alone while running.

“Eddie-Bear!” It called in a sing-songy voice. “Time for your medicine!”

Eddie vaguely put together that the voice behind him was his mother’s. God, he really was afraid of her. How the clown knew that, Eddie had no idea. Eddie picked up speed, causing his breaths to get more labored, and his legs to get even more tired.

The clown didn’t slow its pace at all, and it quickly swiped out a sharp claw, aiming for Eddie’s legs. The boy in question yelped as It’s pincer grazed his thigh.

The boy didn’t stop.

He couldn’t stop, or else he’d be killed.

* * *

Richie had run off with Stan and Bill, and the three had been running hard when Stan pointed something out.

“ _You guys!_ ” he breathed heavily. “Stop!”  
Richie and Bill looked at him in confusion as they all slowed to a stop in front of the Paul Bunyan statue. “It’s not chasing us!” Stan said hoarsely. “Look!” He pointed in the opposite direction of where they had been running, and sure enough, It wasn’t even looking their way. It was chasing after someone else. Someone much smaller and more delicate.

“ _Eddie!_ ” Richie yelped. The three turned and ran towards the clown, joining Bev, Mike, and Ben, for they’d also noticed that Pennywise had chosen a different target then they’d previously thought.  
“Hold on, Eds!” Richie called to his friend, running as hard as he could.

Just before he reached Eddie, Richie stumbled. What he saw made his heart stop.

Eddie was lying on the ground, blood pouring from his stomach, and that  fucking clown  was standing over him, a gleeful look on its hideous face.

_“Eddie!”_ Richie screamed, rushing over to his friend. The others followed suit. Pennywise laughed as Richie dropped down to Eddie’s level.

“No! No, no, no, no! Eds! What the fuck happened? Are you okay!?” Richie asked frantically. He didn’t even know why he asked. Obviously, Eddie wasn’t okay. Blood was seeping through his clothes and pooling in the grass. Eddie blinked slowly, trying to focus on breathing. Trying to ignore the sharp pain he felt in his stomach.  
“It- It’s..” he trailed off as he struggled to breathe. “S-s-s-scraped me... It’s c-claw,” he tried to explain, before coughing harshly. “Rich- can’t breathe-“ he gasped out, gripping Richie’s shirt. “M-my asthma-“ Richie barely registered Bev rushing to find Eddie’s inhaler. He felt red hot panic overtake him as his shaking hands quickly lifted Eddie’s shirt to inspect the damage.

Pennywise snickered from behind them.

“Don’t touch him, Richie,” Pennywise hissed, crawling forwards. “You know you can’t touch the other boys.”

Richie ignored the clown’s comment as he checked over Eddie’s abdomen. He was bleeding. A lot.

“You’ll be okay!” Richie promised frantically. “You’re okay, Eds! Okay? Look at me!” Richie grabbed his best friend’s head, and forced him to look Richie in the eyes. Eddie was crying. And hyperventilating. He needed his inhaler, and Bev still hadn’t found it.

“Oh, Richie,” Pennywise cackled. “It really is obvious!”

“Can you walk?” Richie asked Eddie. Eddie nodded, wheezing, and Bill quickly helped to pull them up off the grass. Eddie wobbled as he leaned on Richie for support.

“Tell them, Richie!” Pennywise teased, giggling. “Or I will!”

That got Richie to look up. When the two locked eyes, the clown grinned maniacally. Richie’s eyes were filled with fear. Tasty, delicious fear.

“You wouldn’t,” Richie whispered, even though he knew, without a doubt, that It would. Beside him, Bev was helping Eddie with his inhaler (apparently, she’d found it), her hands shaking as she pressed the plastic to his lips. Stan had removed his vest, and was using it to try to stop the bleeding. Mike was muttering comforting words, while Bill and Ben rubbed calming circles along Eddie’s arms. Bless Richie’s fucking friends.

“How about a game of _‘Truth or Dare?’”_ It shot back, saliva dripping from its teeth.

“No.  _ Please_ _._ ” Richie’s voice cracked as he stepped away from his friends, and closer to It. “Don’t.”

The clown ignored the boy, feeling more powerful by the second. The boy’s fear was almost overwhelming.

“Oh,  _ Losers!_” It called, dragging out the ‘o’in the latter word. “Richie has something to tell you.”

The Losers’ gazes all shot to the clown. They looked wary and confused.

“What the hell’s It talking about, Richie?” Stan asked. Richie ignored him as he looked directly into the clown’s drooping eyes.

“Please,” Richie begged, feeling tears start to well up. “Please don’t.”

“Rich-“ Eddie started, before coughing and gripping his stomach tightly.

The others flocked around Eddie as the boy cried out in pain.

Richie turned to look at his friend. Eddie wasn’t okay. He needed a doctor, or at the very least, he needed his mother. Sonia Kaspbrak had several hospital-grade first-aid kits in her home, and Eddie needed one fast.

Of course, though, Pennywise didn’t frankly give a damn that Eddie was hurt. If anything, the clown was ecstatic at the mixture of so much blood and fear. It would only make sense that Pennywise would try to get more out of them.  
Which was why It continued to tease Richie about his stupid fucking secret.

“They don’t know, do they, Richie?” Pennywise asked innocently. “They don’t know that you-“

“Stop,” Richie pleaded weakly. “Please, just stop.” The clown grinned.

“What is it? You don’t want Eddie to know? You don’t want him to know your _dirty little secret?_ ” Pennywise smirked.

“No.” Richie was crying now. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stood helplessly in front of his tormentor. “No. I- I don’t. Please, please don’t do this. Don’t.”

The others were shocked. Richie was always such a loudmouth. They didn’t think he had any secrets, let alone any that were worth begging Pennywise not to tell.

“Please,” Richie continued. “I- I’ll do anything! I swear! Just  _ stop!”_

Pennywise looked intrigued.

“Anything?” It asked, leaning down so that it was closer to the others.

“Richie, no!”

“What the hell are you doing??”

“Are you _insane?_ ”

Richie glanced back at his friends.

At Eddie.

And he decided right then and there that they couldn’t know. Not ever.

“Anything,” he said determinedly.

“Come with me to the sewers,” It said suddenly. The expression on its face almost looked disbelieving. Like It didn’t think that Richie would actually go through with it.

“Deal,” Richie said immediately, a pained expression on his face.

With that word still hanging in the air, the clown scooped Richie up, and wrapped one of its slithering tentacles around his neck.

“ _Richie!”_ the Losers all screamed. Pennywise smirked.

“Bad choice,” It hissed. Before it ran off with the boy, Richie gave one last, terrified look at his friends, and choked out,  
”Don’t... follow me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I’m trying to set a schedule for myself. So far it’s to post every few days. Comments and Kudos always warm my heart! Thanks for reading this, guys!


	3. Friends To Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonia called his name again. Eddie didn’t answer, only making his mother more angry.
> 
> “Eddie,” Sonia called sharply. “Where on Earth have you been, young man? I was worried sick!”

Eddie couldn’t breathe.  
His best friend was just taken from him, and he couldn’t breathe.  
He had a pretty deep cut on his stomach, and he couldn’t breathe.  
He was crying. And Eddie _couldn’t fucking breathe._ All he saw was darkness. All he felt was terror. Richie was taken by It. Richie was gone. _Richie was fucking kidnapped by It._

 _ “Eddie!”  _ The boy vaguely heard his name being called. “ _Eddie, honey, you need to breathe!”_

Something hard was pressed to his lips. His inhaler. On instinct, Eddie sucked in a shaking breath, letting the medicine work its magic. After a short moment, his vision came flooding back, and his friends’ frightened faces were all he could see.

“Y-you guys,” Eddie gasped. “Richie- It-“

“I know..” Bev said solemnly.

“We- we have to go get him!” Eddie practically screamed. “We have to get him  _ now!“ _

The others glanced at each other. They were all crying, but Eddie knew that nothing compared to how he was feeling in that moment. Tears streamed down his face as he looked up at his friends.

“Eddie, you’re  _hurt,_ ” Stan whispered.

“ _I don’t care!_ ” Eddie countered, starting to wheeze again. “We have to-“ He took a shuddering breath. “We have to save him!”

“And w-we will,” Bill assured him. “But first, y-y-you n-need to f-fix th-th-that up.” Bill gestured to Eddie’s bleeding stomach.

Looking down, Eddie realized that his entire shirt was torn and soaked in his own blood. If this wound didn’t finish him off, Eddie’s mother certainly would.

Feeling faint, Eddie breathed: “Okay. Fine. But as soon as I’m fixed up, we are saving Richie. You guys aren’t doing it alone. End of discussion.” There was an edge to his voice, and a dangerous glint in his eye that none of the others had ever seen there before. There would be no arguing with Eddie on this one.

“Of course,” Bill promised, putting an arm under Eddie’s own, to help support him.

“Eddie, you have to get your mom to help you with your-“ Bev started.

“No.” Eddie stared sternly at the Losers. “I’ll do it myself.” At their questioning looks, Eddie simply said: “I don’t need her,” before starting to walk in the direction of where they’d left their bikes. He had one arm wrapped around his stomach, and the other was around Bill’s shoulders.

The group exchanged weighted glances before following behind Eddie and Bill.

* * *

When the six had arrived at Eddie’s house, Eddie had told them all to wait in the driveway. His mother despised his friends almost as much as she despised germs. If Eddie’s friends were to show up on Sonia Kaspbrak’s front porch with her only son bleeding out from the stomach, then Eddie would most likely never get to see the Losers again, let alone the light of fucking day. Plus, his mom would probably have an aneurism if she saw him like this.

So, Eddie needed to be as stealthy as possible, and his friends needed to stay out of the house, and out of sight.

As Eddie pushed open the front door, he prayed that his mother wouldn’t hear him. But, apparently, the universe was just not on his side that day, for the door creaked loudly, along with the polished floorboards when he stepped on them.

“Eddie-Bear?” Eddie held his breath and squeezed his eyes shut, hoping his mother wouldn’t get up from where she always was: her chair in the living room. “Eddie, is that you?”

Pushing past his fear, the small boy quickly shut the door and stalked toward the bathroom. He quickened his pace when he heard the dreadful stomps of his mother heading in his direction.

“Eddie!” she called sweetly. “Eddie-Bear, I was worried sick about you! Where have you been?”

To anyone else, Sonia could’ve sounded worried. Maybe even scared. But Eddie could see right through her façade, now. He could tell that she was not worried. She was angry with him.

Sonia called his name again. Eddie didn’t answer, only making his mother more angry.

“Eddie,” Sonia called sharply. “Where on Earth have you been, young man? I was worried sick!” Eddie scrambled to the sink when he heard her furious voice. He made quick work of washing his hands before pulling out the first-aid kit and getting to work.

As his mother pounded on the door profusely, Eddie pulled on some gloves, and rinsed his stomach with soap and water. It fucking stung like hell.

As Eddie cleaned himself up, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander to Richie.

Why had Richie done what he’d done? What kind of secret was so bad that Richie would rather  _die_ than tell it? Why did Richie feel the need to hide something apparently so significant from his best friends? From  _Eddie?_ The boy just didn’t understand.

He wondered if Richie was okay. If he was safe. After a moment, Eddie mentally kicked himself. Of course Richie wasn’t alright. He had just been kidnapped by a psychotic clown that took pleasure in murdering children. What the fuck did Eddie expect to happen to Richie?

_”Eddie!”_

He was torn from his thoughts by his mother’s incessant screaming.

_“Open this door_ _right now!_ _Eddie, open it, or so help me, I’ll- “_

Sonia stopped herself when she saw that her son had opened the door. Her eyes trailed over his body, and she did a double-take when she saw his now-bandaged stomach. Eddie’s mother gasped, a hand flying to her mouth.

“Eddie! What happened?” she yelped. She almost looked as though she was being genuine.

Almost.

“Nothing, Ma,” Eddie said, pushing past her. He started towards his bedroom for a new shirt, since his other one had been torn and stained. He was stopped, however, when a fat hand whipped him around by his upper arm.

“Not so fast, young man.” Sonia held him in a bruising grip. “Where were you? You had me worried sick, Eddie-Bear.” Her voice turned soft. “You need your medicine. You’re sick, Eddie. Remember?” She sighed as though it was really obvious to her, and Eddie was just too dumb to see it. “You’re so ill that you can’t even remember you’re sick.” She tsked. “You need your medicine, Eddie-Bear. Right now.”

Eddie glared. He’d had just about enough of his mom and her fake illnesses.

“Ma, stop.”

She ignored him, only moving to grab Eddie’s other arm in her own.

“Ma,” he tried. “Ma, you’re hurting me!” He tried pulling on his arms, but it was no use. She dragged him to the kitchen, and using one hand, she pulled out all of Eddie’s medications. Sonia was still gripping Eddie’s uninjured arm tightly with her other hand.

Taking the opportunity of one free arm (despite it still being broken from the Losers’ first fight with It), Eddie waited until his mother faced him with his meds. When she did, he brought his cast down hard, directly onto her nose. A sickening crunch sounded as the plaster connected with Sonia’s face.

She reeled back and screamed in pain. Blood began to pour from her nose, and Eddie couldn’t help but feel a bit of satisfaction at that.

Suddenly, the front door burst open, and the rest of the Losers rushed in.

“Eddie, a-are y-y-you ok-kay?” Bill asked, rushing up to the boy.

“We heard a lot of screaming,” Stan said, eyeing Eddie’s mother.

Sonia had a large hand cupped over her nose, blood slowly trickling through her fingers.

“Eddie,” she said coldly. “You will take your pills, and your friends will leave. _Now.”_ Eddie balled his uninjured hand up into a fist.

“No,” he snapped. Eddie’s mother looked at him with distaste.

“Your pills help you, Eddie. I have to protect you.” Her voice was low and razor sharp. The Losers would be lying if they said they weren’t scared. But for once, Eddie stood his ground.

“Protect me?” he asked disbelievingly. “By  _lying_ to me? By keeping me  _locked_ inside this  _hellhole?”_ Everyone stared in shock. Eddie had never spoken to his mother like that before, aside from when he’d left his house in a huff, when the Losers had all made up (and even then, all he did was tell his mom that he was done with her babying him). That was completely different.

Eddie turned to look at his friends. The people who loved and cared about him. The people that he knew would do anything for him in the blink of an eye. Then he thought of Richie. His best friend. The boy who Eddie knew would die for him in a heartbeat, because Richie had told him so, once.

Eddie looked at his friends for a moment longer. Then, Eddie looked at his mother. She had an angry gleam in her eyes, and an expression that promised that Eddie wouldn’t go outside for a long,  _long_ time. And just like that, Eddie knew who his real family was.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said to his mom, not really sounding sorry at all. “But the only people that were  _actually_ trying to protect me, were my friends.” Eddie gestured to them with his head. His mother simply stared, evidently not comprehending that her son wouldn’t take her bullshit anymore. “You made me turn my back on them when I really needed them. And now, Richie needs  _us._ So I’m going,” he said finally, pushing past his mom. He rushed out the door with his friends, and they all hopped on their bikes, riding away as fast as they could.

Eddie vaguely heard his mom calling after him. Begging for him to return.

Eddie ignored her.

The Losers rode their bikes toward the Barrens. They needed to make a plan to save Richie, and they needed to do it fast.


	4. A Goal Without a Plan is Just a Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Eddie?” Eddie whipped his head up to see his friends staring at him questioningly. “You okay?” Bev asked.
> 
> It was a dumb question, really. Of course Eddie wasn’t okay. Richie was kidnapped. Anything could be happening to him at the moment, and none of them would even know. Eddie sighed.
> 
> “I’m fine,” he mumbled.

Eddie had thrown his bike down before the other Losers had even come to a full stop. The boy’s stomach ached and his head felt full of cotton, but he couldn’t have cared less. Richie was in danger. That was what mattered now. Not Eddie’s stupid injury, nor Eddie’s stupid mom.

“Come on, you guys!” he breathed, already making his way down the clubhouse’s ladder. The rest of the group followed behind him, just as out of breath.

Eddie glanced over at the hammock that he and Richie usually shared. Although the two boys fought over the spot constantly, they both knew where they’d inevitably end up: lying together, reading comics, while Eddie tried his absolute hardest to knock Richie’s glasses off with his feet.

Eddie stared longingly. He missed the Trashmouth already. And Eddie wanted -  _ needed  _ \- to rest, but it somehow felt...  _ wrong _ to sit there without his best friend. Like it would be a betrayal to Richie, if he did.

So, Eddie shuffled over to where Mike usually sat: the indoor swing. Eddie didn’t think his friends would mind if he switched it up, given the circumstances.

And they didn’t. Though, if they did notice that Eddie wasn’t where he usually was, then they chose not to comment on it, and Eddie was grateful for that.

The Losers accumulated around the room, assuming their usual positions. Bev was leaning against the wall (albeit a bit stiffly), Ben was by her side, Bill and Stan were seated in their usual chairs by the entrance, and Mike, not wanting to steal Richie and Eddie’s spot, decided to take a seat on the side table, near Ben and Bev.

The group was silent for a moment, the only audible sound being the Losers’ heavy breathing. It was weird without Richie. Too quiet. Their group was incomplete without him.

A sinking feeling presented itself within Eddie as soon as Pennywise showed up at the park. That feeling had only intensified since then. Right now, it was overtaking Eddie completely.

The deafening silence was too much. It felt almost like a tribute of some kind. To  _ Richie. _ And Eddie didn’t like that, because Richie wasn’t dead. It had just taken him.

Pennywise couldn’t have killed Richie. Not yet, anyways.  _ No,  _ Eddie silently reprimanded himself.  _ Don’t think like that. Richie’s fine. He’s fine. He’s only been taken by some crazy cosmic killer clown, and dragged to the sewers to his imminent demise- _

Eddie’s thoughts were becoming too rapid. Too much. He might’ve had another asthma attack if he didn’t shut himself up soon. _ Beep beep,  _ something whispered in his head. Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, and breathed in a shaking breath. Everything would be fine. Everything  _ had _ to be fine. This was Richie he was thinking about. He was strong. Resilient. He would be fine. Alive. They would save him. They had to save him.

Eddie kept on breathing, trying to calm himself, silently promising that he would get Richie the hell out of the sewers, no matter what.

Slowly, Eddie allowed himself to open his eyes. He had to keep it together. For Richie.

“Eddie?” Eddie whipped his head up to see his friends staring at him questioningly. “You okay?” Bev asked.

It was a dumb question, really. Of course Eddie wasn’t okay. Richie was kidnapped. Anything could be happening to him at the moment, and none of them would even know. Eddie sighed.

“I’m fine,” he mumbled. The others glanced at each other knowingly, before Stan spoke up.

“Are you sure?” he asked slowly. “You don’t seem-“

“We need to make a plan,” Eddie interrupted. “Any ideas? Anyone?”

Stan gave him a look, but chose to ignore Eddie’s not-so-subtle deflection.

“Why don’t we just go in there and get him? Like we did last time, when we went looking for...” Stan glanced over at Bill. Georgie had gone missing over nine months ago, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt to say his name.

Bill nodded once.

“It-t-t’s f-fine Stan,” Bill assured him (though he didn’t sound too sure, himself). “You can say his name,” he whispered.

Stan continued, still not wanting to mention Bill’s little brother. He was a sore subject, no matter what Bill said to assure them.

“Why don’t we do what we did last time? Charge in there, unexpectedly.”

Eddie looked at Stan incredulously.

“W-we can’t do that!” he sputtered. Stan furrowed his brow.

“Why not?”

_“Because!“_ Eddie exclaimed, standing up from the swing. “I-it’s  _ Richie! _ If we just  _ barge _ in there, unannounced, that stupid fucking clown might hurt him! We can’t fucking do that!” he cried.

“So what do you want to do, Eddie?  _ Warn _ Pennywise that we’re coming?” Stan shot back.

 _“No! _ I just-“

“You guys!” Bev called. Everyone turned to her. “Arguing  _ isn’t _ helping,” she said firmly. Eddie sighed. He knew she was right.

“We just- we  _ need _something better than just rushing in there and grabbing Richie from Pennywise,” Eddie said, sounding exhausted. “We need something better.”

“Well, m-m-maybe we sh-sh-should start with g-getting you a sh-sh-shirt,” Bill said, gesturing to Eddie. When the group all turned to him, Eddie glanced down at himself. His cut had been bandaged, but during his whole squabble with his mother, Eddie hadn’t gotten the chance to put on a new shirt without holes or blood caked on it.

“Here,” Mike said, passing Eddie his button-down. He’d been wearing two of them. One had been buttoned up all the way, while the other had hung limply around his arms. Eddie thanked his friend as he put on the garment. It was a bit big, but it would do.

“So,” Bev started. “What are we going to do about Richie?”

Eddie huffed.

“Like I said, we need something better than just rushing in blindly!” he said fervently.

“I agree,” Ben piped up.

“But what else are we supposed to do?” Stan asked.

He was met with silence.  


Bill frowned.

“I th-think we n-n-need t-to do s-some kind of s-s-s-s-s-sn-sn...” Bill trailed off.

“Sneak attack?” Mike supplied. Bill nodded gratefully. His stutter got bad when he was stressed or nervous. Or when Pennywise was the topic of conversation. In this case, it was all three.

“Yes! E-e-exactly!” Bill replied.

“But- you guys, what if It hurts Richie as soon as it sees us coming?” Eddie asked worriedly. He felt like no one was listening to him (well, aside from maybe Ben), and he didn’t like it. Richie was in danger. This wasn’t the time to be ignoring - or arguing with - what he had to say. _“That’s_ what I’m worried about!” he said frantically.

“Th-then we’ll j-j-just have to make sure that It d-d-d-doesn’t see us,” Bill said resolutely.

The Losers all looked at Eddie and Ben, waiting for their input. After all, they had been the only ones to disagree with a surprise attack.

”I’m in if Bev’s in,” Ben said quietly. Beverly nodded.

”I’m in,” she replied unwaveringly. Ben nodded.

”Then so am I.”

The rest of the group looked to Eddie.

”S-S-So?” Bill asked hopefully. “Are you in, E-E-Eddie?”

Eddie sighed in resignation. It was five to one. Sneak attack, it was.

“Fine,” he mumbled.  


”Good,” Bill stated, crossing his arms.

“But how should we sneak in?” Bev thought aloud. “I mean, it  _ has _ to be expecting us, right? It should know by now that we wouldn’t leave Richie behind.”

That was true. The clown  had to have known that they’d go after their friend. After all, if they went after Richie, Pennywise would be provided with seven meals already in the Well House. That made the whole situation - and a sneak attack - a lot more difficult.

The group stayed silent for a moment, pondering their options, thinking over different ways to gain an advantage over the clown that was holding their friend hostage.

Suddenly, Ben’s face lit up. He rushed over to the side table that Mike was seated on, and politely asked him to move. When Mike did so, Ben eagerly pulled out one of the drawers, retrieving what he was searching for: blueprints. They looked to be of the sewer system.

_ If Richie were here, _ Eddie thought sadly,  _ he’d make some kind of nasty joke about shit, or Bowers, or Ben having his head in the gutter. Or maybe all three. _

“Why do you have that?” Bev asked, light amusement dancing in her voice. Ben’s cheeks turned bright pink.

“History project,” he answered simply.

_ You mean like the entire history museum you’ve got in your bedroom? _ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Richie asked in Eddie’s head.

“It’s a map of the Derry sewer system,” Ben explained. “I’ll bet we can find at least one entrance that Pennywise either hasn’t used, or won’t hear us use,” he offered.

Eddie nodded, pointing to one of the sewer tunnels on the far East side of the map.

“What about here?” he suggested. “It looks the farthest from the well house, and all of the other sewer drains. There’s a high chance that Pennywise won’t even know we’re there if we use that entrance.”

The Losers all looked to where Eddie was pointing. It looked reasonable enough. And if Pennywise  _ did _ happen to hear them, the group would be back together by the time that happened, so they would fight It off.

“We need weapons,” Mike said suddenly.

The others voiced their agreement, and they decided that they’d stop by Mike’s barn to get farming tools, a bolt gun, and any other useful things that they might find along the way to Neibolt.

The Losers’ plan wasn’t the best, but it wasn’t terrible. They agreed that this was probably the best that they could do when going up against a killer clown.

As the six made their way out of the clubhouse, and towards where Mike lived, Eddie found himself thinking of Richie again.

Why had he so willingly gone with Pennywise? What secret did he have? Why was he so  _ scared? _ What did Richie do that was so bad that he couldn’t even tell  _Eddie_ about it? What if he was hurt now? Who _knew_ what kinds of unspeakable horrors Richie was enduring at the moment?

Eddie shook his head, forcing himself not to think negative thoughts. Instead, he kept repeating the mantra he’d made for himself back at the clubhouse:

_ We’re coming for you, Rich. Don’t worry. _


	5. You Are Only As Sick As Your Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> !TW! Homophobic slurs, violence, mentions of abuse
> 
> “No one loves you, Richie,” Pennywise taunted. “No one, no one, no one, no one,” It sang. As it did so, Its face slowly started to morph into that of a man: Richie’s father.  
> Just his fucking luck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the wait! A depressive episode during a family vacation is a fun time! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter! To be honest, I’m pretty excited about it!

Richie had never really cared about what other people thought of him. He wore and said whatever the fuck he wanted, whenever the fuck he felt like it. However, there was one exception: Richie Tozier was gay. He was gay, and he didn’t like it one bit.

Richie had been taught from a very young age that being different was wrong. Or, more specifically, that being _gay_ was wrong. Richie’s father had often told him, “Queers are disgusting. They don’t belong in a man’s world.” And, as children often do, Richie believed every word his dad said, no matter how wrong it felt to do so.  


* * *

When Richie first met Eddie, he was seven years old. He didn’t really know much, only that Eddie made him happy, and that being happy was good. As they got older, Richie would often tease Eddie, and Eddie would always bite back.

With every snarky comment from Eddie, came a flutter in Richie’s stomach. Of course, Richie  _ knew _ it was wrong. He knew that  _ he _ was wrong, and that what he was feeling wasn’t okay. But... still.. it was normal to love your best friend. Right? It was normal to smile uncontrollably when around them. It was normal for Richie to want to grab Eddie and hug him in his arms because he looked so small and sweet and delicate.

_ Right? _

Or was it not normal to like the way Eddie’s freckled face would scrunch up at one of Richie’s crude jokes? Was it not normal to just  _ love _ Eddie’s infectious laugh? Was it bad that Richie would always try his hardest to make that laugh happen? Was Richie a pervert for staring at his friend when no one else was watching, because Eddie was just so pretty? Was it despicable for Richie to feel sparks when he and Eddie touched? Was it normal for Richie to get lost in his best friend’s endlessly deep, chocolate eyes?

_ Was it? _

Was it normal to want to kiss a boy? The girls at school always talked and giggled about it, so why couldn’t Richie?

He didn’t understand. Unfortunately, he would soon enough. In fact, Richie was ten years old when he realized that his behavior was beyond just being “not normal.”

The Toziers had been eating dinner, when Richie’s mother had wheedlingly asked Richie if he’d had any crushes as of late. Richie had nodded enthusiastically. Even if the boy had thought

_ (hoped beyond fucking hope) _

that his feelings would go away, he still mistakenly deemed it safe to mention Eddie to his mom. She had asked, of course, and she’d never expressed any interest in whatever semblance of a love life Richie could muster up before, so this was new. He should have been suspicious, really, but luck hadn’t been on his side that night. As a result, Richie had been clueless, and more than excited - never a good combination.

So Richie, all smiles and pink cheeks, had told his mother and father all about Eddie Kaspbrak. He told them about how he thought Eddie was the cutest, smartest, most adorable boy that he’d ever laid his eyes on, and he’d told them about how his heart fluttered when the two of them touched. He told his parents how much his heart swelled at Eddie’s laughter, and how much he missed Eddie when they were a mere ten feet apart. He told them of the immense feelings of genuine happiness that he felt when he was around Eddie; the thrill he got when Eddie snapped at him. He even told his parents about how beautiful he thought Eddie was.

Poor Richie had no way of knowing what had been coming to him, but it was safe to say that he had learned the hard way that night, that liking Eddie was wrong.

And every day since then, Richie learned that lesson over and over again. Wentworth believed that his dirty son had to get it through that thick skull of his that he  _couldn’t like boys_ _._ Richie had to understand that he was sick. He was disgusting. He had to understand that Wentworth Tozier was ashamed to have Richie as a son, and Maggie Tozier was so incredibly disappointed in him.

Richie needed help - his mother would say it often enough - and the only way that Richie could get that help, was to have his “sickness” dispelled by Wentworth’s belt.  _ Every. Single. Day. _

Richie knew that he was in the wrong, but he really couldn’t help it. No matter how many welts littered his back, Richie couldn’t help the way he felt about Eddie. He would try his absolute hardest to push down his feelings, but he just couldn’t. And those feelings only caused Richie to feel even more revolted with himself. Every time Richie looked in the mirror, he felt disgusted. How could he be this way? How could he do this to his parents? How could he do this to  _ Eddie? _

Richie was a disappointment, and he knew it well enough. He didn’t deserve to have parents who cared enough to try to help him get rid of his queerness. In fact, Richie thought, he probably didn’t deserve to have the friends he did, and he  _ definitely _ didn’t deserve to have Eddie in his life, that much was clear as day. All Richie ever did was constantly annoy the fuck out of the Losers with inappropriate jokes and innuendos aimed at their mothers.

_ (What was he good for, anyway?) _

So, naturally, when Richie had been tossed haphazardly into disgusting gray water, and faced with a scary, drooling, killer clown, Richie believed with every fiber of his being that he completely deserved what was coming to him.  


* * *

“Oh, Richie,” Pennywise sneered. “Poor, poor Richie.” It bent over, gripping Richie’s face in one of its large, gloved hands. “If  _ only _ you weren’t a disgusting  _ fag,” _ It spat. “Then maybe your friends would like you. Maybe your family wouldn’t be so disappointed in you.”

With every word, the clown squeezed harder on Richie’s face. The boy winced in pain as he was forced to bite down on his tongue. The sharp, metallic taste in his mouth reminded him of his father. When Wentworth was especially drunk, he would hit Richie a hell of a lot harder than usual, and in more visible places. It was a pain in the ass to cover up.

“No one loves you, Richie,” Pennywise taunted. “No one, no one, no one, no one,” It sang. As it did so, Its face slowly started to morph into that of a man: Richie’s father.

Just his fucking luck.

“You’re a filthy, immoral little boy. You’re a disappointment,” It immediately said in Wentworth’s rough, demeaning voice. “You make your mother cry every night, you know that, right? She’s devastated that she got stuck with a son like  _ you _ _._ You know, I don’t blame her.”

Richie winced, fresh tears springing to his eyes. Not-Wentworth reached for his belt, sliding it through the loops in his pants.

“When will you learn?” he tsked, reaching for Richie’s shirt. He pulled it over Richie’s head and tossed it aside with ease, staring down at Richie with what could only be described as pure malice. He eyed the bruises and scars that littered Richie’s bare body, and his dark eyes lit up with menace. “You will regret being a faggot,” he spat. It hadn’t been a suggestion. Before Richie could even have time to react, Not-Wentworth’s belt came crashing down into the flesh of Richie’s bare chest. A familiarly cold tendril of fear snaked its way up Richie’s spine as he fell to his stomach from the overwhelming pain, but he stayed silent, for he’d learned a long time ago that noise only spurred his father on.

“Apologize!” Not-Wentworth screamed between the awful cracks of his belt. Richie squinted up at his father, blinking back tears. The stinging on his back was more painful than it had ever been before.

“What?” Richie whimpered.

“I said  _ apologize, _ you disgusting queer!” Not-Went shouted again, raising his belt. “Apologize for being such a  _ fucking disappointment _ to your mother and I.” The belt lashed at Richie’s skin once again. Richie held up a shaking hand in a weak attempt to defend himself.

“I-I’m sorry!” he cried. “I’m so, so sorry, Dad! I-I’ve  _ tried _ to get rid of these feelings!  _Trust me,_ I’ve tried, but-“

 _ “Shut up,” _ Not-Wentworth ground out. “I don’t need excuses,” he growled, bringing the belt down across Richie’s back again.

“Sorry,” Richie choked out, the pain becoming more and more intense as the torture went on.

Richie had been hit with his father’s belt a thousand times before, but somehow, this hurt tenfold. Richie could actually  _ feel _ the leather making slits in his skin. He could  _ feel _ bruises forming. He could  _ feel _ the blood dripping down his back and shoulders. The sharp stinging turned to burning, and the burning turned to flat out, red-hot pain.

By that point, Richie was no longer whimpering softly, trying to stay silent. He was screaming at the top of his lungs. The pain was unbearable; like someone had taken a thousand giant spikes covered in poison, and driven them through his back, over, and over, and over again. Richie thought he might pass out. The world above him was a blur, despite the fact that his glasses were perfectly intact, save for a small crack or two.

The searing pain was overwhelming. Richie’s body was begging him to close his eyes. To fall asleep. To make the pain fucking stop. Or, maybe it was the opposite. Maybe his body wanted him to wake up. To just blink his eyes and be somewhere else. Somewhere far, far away from this horrible nightmare that Richie had dragged himself into. But, unfortunately, his body and his mind were two different things, entirely.

Richie’s eyes began to flicker shut, the pain throughout his body being too much to handle. As his mind drifted, the pain dulled only slightly. Darkness clouded his vision. Richie idly wondered what would happen to him once he was unconscious. Would It still beat him? Would It stop because Richie was asleep? Or maybe It would stop because Richie felt less pain while in such a state, and It wanted him to experience as much anguish as possible? Richie had no idea. But he  _ did _ know that he was on the brink of passing out, and that was probably not a good thing either way.

Just as his jumbled thoughts began to disperse, the pain stopped. For a small moment, Richie thought he might have died, but that mentation was quickly banished when he felt himself get hoisted to his feet.

Richie was struggling to stand, but now that the belt was no longer lapping at his skin, his vision had at least slightly returned. He could now tell that the person in front of him was no longer his father. Instead, a hardly-visible, blob of a woman stood in front of him. Richie knew right away who it was. He willed himself to sound strong, but his voice came out strangled and broken.

“Mom?” he rasped, still trying (and failing) to hold himself up. Maggie held Richie’s forearms in a tight grip.

“Oh, Richard,” she said sadly. “Why are you doing this to us? To our family?”

As Richie’s vision became more and more focused, he could see the pain in his mother’s eyes. The sadness. The disappointment.

Richie immediately wished that he was blind again.

“Why did you have to be gay?” Richie’s mother wept, still gripping his arms. “Please,” she begged. “Please tell me why, Richard.”

And for once, Richie Tozier was speechless. What could he say? He didn’t know why he was the way he was. He wished he wasn’t gay. All the time, he wished it. But he was. And he didn’t know if there was anything he could do about it.

When Richie didn’t speak for a moment, more tears made their way down Maggie Tozier’s face. Pure sadness radiated off of her in waves. Richie’s expression equally matched hers: sad, confused, angry with himself, defeated.

As his mother cried, Richie did, too. He cried for his mother. He cried for himself. And he cried for the things he knew he’d never have: a loving, accepting family, a real partner that he could hold hands with in public, friends who knew who he really was, and accepted him despite it.

_ Eddie. _

Richie cried the most for him, for he knew that Eddie was someone he could never, ever have.

Richie squeezed his eyes shut as more hot tears stung at them. His mother’s firm hands were still tightly wrapped around Richie’s arms, and he was surprisingly grateful for that, for if she hadn’t been there, Richie surely would have fallen, and probably not gotten back up.

That thankfulness disappeared as fast as it had shown up, however, when Maggie’s grip on Richie tightened ten-fold. Richie yelped in surprise, his eyes springing open to find that his mother was no longer there. In her place stood four boys: Victor Criss, Belch Huggins, Henry Bowers, and Patrick Hockstetter. Bowers had Richie’s arms in a vice-like grip, and they all wore sinister smiles.

“What the fuck?” Richie uttered, unsure, for a moment, as to how his bullies had taken the place of his mother so quickly.

The boys’ smiles only got wider.

“Well, hello there,  _ faggot,” _ Henry spat. Richie winced. “Wanna have some fun?” Bowers didn’t wait for an answer. Soon, Richie was freed of Henry’s bruising grip, and was instead shoved to the ground, gray water inevitably splashing all over his body and into his mouth. Richie gagged. Henry laughed.

“C’mon, fag!” he taunted again, landing a hard kick to Richie’s stomach. Richie groaned. “Let’s play!” Another kick was delivered to Richie’s head. Soon enough, the others joined in, as well.

It didn’t take long for Richie to get dizzy. The world above him spun like mad, and his hearing was fading in and out.

“...faggot!”

“...gonna kill you...”

“...your faggot friends...”

“...suck dick, Tozier?”

“...pay for what you tried to do to my cousin, freak.”

“...disgusting...”

Tears filled Richie’s eyes once again. He’d heard all of these things countless times before, of course, but something was different now: Richie actually  _ listened _ to the hateful words they were spewing, and he believed them one-hundred percent.

As more blows were delivered, Richie started to feel numb. He was no longer sad or angry. Just disappointed in himself. After all, didn’t he deserve this? Wasn’t that why he was in this hellhole? Because he was a pervert? He was disgusting? Yes, that was it. Richie knew that he deserved all the pain and torture in the world for being the way he was. For being a fag. Eddie would probably hate him if he knew. Richie was sick, and he knew how Eddie felt about illnesses. Eddie would never speak to Richie again. And maybe-

Richie’s thoughts were abruptly cut short by a sharp pain pushing its way through the numbness in his head, shoving him back into reality. Something warm trickled down the side of Richie’s face, and he hardly even registered that his hand was already moving up to touch his temple, his fingers lightly dancing over it. When Richie drew his shaking hand back, he was shocked to find that his fingertips were crimson.

_ What in the fuck had just happened? _

“Take that, faggot!” Bowers screeched, dropping what appeared to be a small, metal pipe. Richie blearily looked up at his bully, wondering when in the hell he’d had the time to light a cigarette.

Bowers glared down at Richie, noting his wandering eyes.

“You see this?” Henry asked. “It’s called a cigarette. Also called a fag, to some people. Want to try it?”

Richie shook his head as Bowers dropped down to Richie’s height, and pressed the burning tip of his cigarette to Richie’s left arm.

_ (His father had done that, once.) _

Richie immediately jerked away, yelping in pain and gripping his arm. Henry and his goons all laughed, save for Patrick Hockstetter. He stared Richie in the eyes, his calm expression unwavering. He licked his lips as Richie cried and screamed.

“Hey. You’re a gay fuck, right?” Patrick asked, voice even. Richie didn’t answer, still cradling his burned arm. “Why don’t you suck my dick?” Patrick asked simply.

Richie’s breath hitched in his throat. Suddenly, the pain in his arm didn’t matter anymore, because  _ what the fuck? Was Patrick fucking serious? _

Richie looked up at Patrick. There was a mischievous glint in the bully’s eye that Richie had often seen when they passed one another in the school hallway. It was one of the things about Patrick that, admittedly, frightened Richie the most.

“What?” Richie whispered.

“You fuckin’ heard me,” Hockstetter growled suddenly, his demeanor changing in an instant. He gripped Richie by the arms, and dragged him up. “Get to your fuckin’ knees, Tozier,” he spat. The others laughed as Patrick began to unzip his jeans. Richie looked up at them from his place on the ground. Henry’s goons were laughing, but Richie knew that Patrick wasn’t joking around.

“Patrick. Don’t do this,” Richie pleaded. Hockstetter ignored him as he pulled down his pants. Richie flinched, immediately squeezing his eyes shut.

“It’s not real,” Richie muttered. “It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not real.” He repeated this mantra for several seconds, and when he didn’t feel Patrick’s hands in his hair, or hear the loud cackles of Bowers’ gang, he opened his eyes, and was faced with-

nothing.

Those four disturbed teens weren’t there.

Richie’s abusive father wasn’t there.

His disappointed mother wasn’t there to sob into her handkerchief.

_ It _ just wasn’t there.

Richie groaned as relief flooded his veins, and he immediately fell back onto the ground, every part of him wanting to explode from the pain inflicted upon him.

“Jesus, fuck,” Richie breathed, his voice echoing throughout the sewers.

_ “Richie?” _ something echoed back. Richie shot up from the ground in an instant. Was that  _ Eddie’s _ voice he’d just heard?

“Richie!” the voice called again.

_ Holy shit. _

Despite himself, Richie felt the smallest bit of hope. He knew he shouldn’t, though. After all, he was the one who agreed to come down to the sewers in the first place. Why the fuck was he getting excited to escape? He deserved this pain and suffering more than anyone.

_ “Richie?” _

But still, Richie called back.

“You guys?”

Eddie’s voice suddenly got more frantic.

“Richie!”

“Eds?” Richie stood unsteadily, trying to find out where the voice was coming from.

“Richie?” Stan’s shaking voice called out.

“W-where are you, R-R-Rich?” Bill said strongly. “We’re g-gonna follow y-y-your v-voice!”

“You’re actually here?” Richie questioned, turning towards a large, dark tunnel. There was a small bit of light emanating from it. Flashlights, maybe? “I see you guys!” Richie informed them. “Are you-“

Suddenly, six figures emerged from the darkness, and Richie’s voice caught in his throat. “Holy fuck,” he murmured, stumbling forwards. “What are you guys  _ doing _ down here?”

No one got a chance to reply, because Eddie had rushed forwards, quicker than lightning, and wrapped Richie in a huge bearhug. Richie reciprocated, noting offhandedly that Eddie’s embrace lacked its usual warmth. He didn’t have time to think about it, though. His friends were there, and he needed to get them  _out._ They couldn’t be seen by It. Otherwise, who the fuck knew what would happen? Poor Eddie had already been scraped up pretty badly, and Richie didn’t want that to happen again.

Richie groaned internally. There he was, once again, thinking about Eddie. God, why couldn’t he just stop? He was such a freak. And why was he still holding Eddie, anyways?

_ (Pervert.) _

Richie lightly pushed Eddie away, and ignored the flash of hurt and confusion he saw in his friend’s eyes.

“You need to go,” Richie said immediately, averting his eyes.

_ “What?” _ Eddie yelped. “Rich, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“Yeah, what the hell, Richie?” Stan added. “You can’t expect us to just leave you like this!” He gestured to Richie’s battered and bruised body. Richie didn’t have to look down at himself to know that he looked like shit. He could feel the aching and the blood just fine, thank you.

“Well, you’re gonna have to,” Richie responded, defiantly crossing his arms and finally staring them all in the face.

“God dammit, Richie, let’s  _go!”_ Bev shouted. “Before It comes back!” Richie frowned.

“I don’t think you understand,” he said quietly. “I’m not leaving.”

“Then neither are we!” Bev glared.

“She’s right, Richie. We aren’t going to go anywhere without you. We care about you,” Ben said, clearly trying to make Richie melt with those sickly sweet eyes.

“Yeah, Richie,” Eddie added softly. “We do.  _ I _ do.” Richie glanced at him.

“Really?” he asked.

“Of course, dipshit.”

Richie gave a watery laugh as Eddie moved in to hug him once again. Richie squeezed Eddie tight, trying to memorize the feel of him. His breathing. His scent - laundry detergent and lilacs. It had always been Richie’s favorite smell, and after being in this awful place, he didn’t think that would ever change.

As Richie reluctantly attempted to pull away, Eddie held him in place. Richie stared in awe as Eddie’s hands slowly rose from Richie’s lower back, to his shoulders, to his neck, his jaw. Eddie held him gently, his fingers lightly tracing over Richie’s soft skin. Eddie stared up at a wide-eyed Richie through his ridiculously long lashes. Eddie looked angelic. Richie shivered, his eyelids fluttering shut. Eddie was so close to him. So,  so close. They were practically breathing the same air.

Eddie leaned in.

Eddie closed his eyes.

Eddie brushed their noses together.

Eddie rested his forehead against Richie’s.

Eddie parted his lips.

Eddie spoke.

_ “It’s too bad you’re a fag, Richie.” _

Richie’s eyes tore open immediately. Shock lodged itself in his throat, revoking his ability to speak. Eddie pulled away, his fingers still trailing over Richie’s face.

“I’m so sorry, Rich. I can’t be friends with you,” Eddie said sadly, walking back towards the others. “Hell, I can’t even be  _ near _ you. You know how I feel about sicknesses, right, Richie?”

Richie swallowed hard, a lump forming in his throat.

“I- I don’t understand,” Richie whispered. Eddie glared, his voice rising steadily.

“What’s not to understand?” he asked angrily. “You’re gay, Rich, and that’s sick. It makes  _ me _ sick even thinking about it!” he spat. Richie stumbled backwards, away from Eddie, and away from the now emotionless stares of his friends. Would Eddie ever really say something like that? Richie hated himself for thinking that maybe he would.

“C’mon, Richie. You’re really running away?  _Again?”_ Eddie’s sweet, chocolate eyes were filled with malice: something that Richie had never, ever seen there before. “First the clown and the sewers, and now you can’t even face the truth? Not even from your own  _friends?_ Unbelievable, Rich.”

Richie’s heart wrenched. Was this really happening?

“Agreed.” Stan stepped forwards. “Honestly, Richie, how long did you think you could keep this a secret? It was obviously going to come out sooner or later.” He smirked. “No pun intended.”

Richie gaped as the group laughed along with Stanley.

“I can’t believe you thought you’d get away with this!” Bev laughed, wiping tears from her eyes. “Richie Tozier! Gay! I really should have known.”

The others agreed, and Eddie stalked towards Richie, only stopping when they were nose-to-nose.

He paused, for a moment, so that Richie could take in what he would never have. Eddie’s lashes fluttered, his gorgeous eyes glistening. His freckles were as prominent as ever, lips plump and soft, hair perfectly coiffed, and for a moment, Richie thought that maybe this really was Eddie.

Then the punch came, and Richie was on the ground, a bruise undoubtedly forming across his bare stomach. Richie groaned as he peered up at his surroundings. His friends had circled around him, Eddie front and center. He had the most dangerous look in his eyes, and Richie knew that he would never forget it.

This would be Richie’s breaking point, and they both knew it.


End file.
